This is an excerpt from a report made to the Aviation Safety Reporting System. The narrative is written by the pilot, rather than FAA or NTSB officials. To maintain anonymity, many details, such as aircraft model or airport, are often scrubbed from the reports.
I was taking a Grumman Cougar for a 100-hour inspection. I completed all preflight inspections and then got in the airplane and performed all checklist items. I then continued setting the airplane up for my flight. Lastly, I got the weather and then made my call and taxied to the run-up area. I performed my run-up and continued ensuring that my radios and navigation were set correctly. After this I made a call to taxi to the hold short line for and taxied the plane.
During my taxi, I heard one airplane on the frequency, which was on a practice approach for Runway X, and scanned the downwind as this is a training airport and often has people not making radio calls.
Upon reaching the hold short, I scanned final and the base and downwind legs again. As I didn’t see any airplanes, and the traffic was on an instrument approach (which was going to be broken off to land Runway X) was far enough out I decided to depart. I made my call and taxied on to the runway.
As I rolled straight out on to the runway and applied power, an aircraft on final announced they were there and seemed frustrated with me. By the time the aircraft called a go-around I was rotating and in the air.
As the aircraft was much faster and a better performing plane, I ensured I got the other aircraft in sight before making any turns.
However, the other pilot involved was extremely aggressive and seemingly maneuvered his plane in a way that did not promote safety. I would say that the aircraft was within 150 feet of my aircraft.
The base and final leg at this airport is very obscured due to a tree off the end of the runway. The base to leg for Runway X is also very obscured due to a mountain that completely shields an airplane from view when looking from the ground. As a result of these obscurations and limited radio calls, I did not see an airplane coming in for landing.
Primary Problem: Procedure
ACN: 2164144
When you click on the link it will take you to the ASRS Online Database. Click on Report Number and put the ACN in the search box, then click Search. On that page, click on “view only the 1 most recent report.”
I took my first-ever light plane ride at Bellevue Airfield (WA), a non-towered strip, 8 miles east of Seattle. It had a single 2,200’ runway, and a parallel taxiway. I lived on a street that ran next to the airport’s eastern border. It was 100 yds from my front door, through some woods, to the end of the runway. It closed in 1983 and morphed into a business park.
Regardless, I never thought that I might actually learn to fly there one day. I’d barely graduated from high school and then dropped out of college; I was working at a min wage job, still living at “home”, & I spent all my spare time and money on cars.
Then one day, I was driving by when the Styx song “Come Sail Away” came on the radio. I was compelled to pull into the parking lot.
It had one small “Piper Flight Center” FBO, with a couple newer Cherokees. I went in and told the lone receptionist/cashier/scheduler/Unicom operator, I was interested in their $15 “Intro Flight”. She leaned past my shoulder and yelled into a back room.
While I waited, I noticed a radio on the counter, absolutely buzzing with official-sounding voices, saying cool things, from obviously exotic locations (“Come in, Rangoon”)!
Then a very young CFI appeared and ushered me to a small table in the lobby. I told him my name—but that’s the extent of my part of the conversation. He filled the rest of our time together with a rapid-fire, non-stop monologue, on everything from the weather, to who “flew first” (Orville or Wilbur), to Bernoulli and Newton and what makes things fly, to how a pilot’s license would help me pick up girls.
We finally went back to the counter, signed out keys, and walked to a plane parked just outside. He kept talking non-stop. I looked back at the receptionist as we went out the door and I swear she silently mouthed “Good luck…”
The CFI hopped up on the wing, still talking, opened the single, right-side door, flipped some switches on/off, then jumped down from the wing. He told me to follow him as he did the preflight: He walked briskly around the plane, still with his nonstop narrative. He named each part he touched, briefly described its function, and what he was checking for at “ground speed zero.”
I understood very little of what he was saying, but it did occur to me that I’d seen other planes with at least TWO doors. “That’s odd,” I thought…this plane only had one?
When he finished, he asked if I had any last questions. Before I could respond, he gestured for me to step up on the wing and into the cabin.
He continued to yak incessantly while he settled into the right seat, fussed with his seat belt, and flicked various switches. Let me state: I’d never been claustrophobic or prone to motion sickness, but the idea that he could block my escape had a very sobering effect as I struggled with my seat belt.
Meanwhile, I saw what was obviously a radio, with “122.8” displayed in a little window. As soon as he started the engine, I could hear the same voices, and cool-sounding plane-speak, I’d heard in the office, coming out through the tinny, ceiling-mounted speaker. I was fascinated by the radio, but I noticed he never once took the hand-held microphone out of its holder to speak into it. Surely, we get to talk on the radio too, I thought.
The parking spot was basically the run-up area. He explained it was important to point the plane – into the wind – to aid with engine cooling during the runup. Then he narrated the flight control check, mag check, carb heat, fuel selector, flaps, trim, radios, blah, blah… Even though he had to yell over the din of the engine, and the chatter on the radio, he persisted in explaining everything he was doing.
Finally, … he flew his hands around the instrument panel one last time and asked “Ready?”… which I now realized was a rhetorical question. Even if I wasn’t “ready,” there was no way he was going to let me escape at this point. He reached up and locked the upper door latch. I was trapped. Since we were parked only about 20 feet from the end of the runway, the actual taxi-for-takeoff took no time at all.
As we pulled forward from our runup spot, directly onto the runway, without stopping, I remember him explaining that the concept of “steering with your feet” might take some getting used to, and to “follow him lightly on the controls.”
After a sharp 90-degree left turn, followed by an immediate 90-right, we were on the runway centerline. As he started explaining what might happen if the plane didn’t accelerate “normally” during the takeoff roll… he had to raise his voice-noticeably-to be heard over a now-excited voice on the radio.
It was noon with the sun directly overhead. I remember the shadow coming over the left wing, and then immediately flash over the engine cowling. The belly of the plane, which I later learned was a Cessna 172, was close enough I could see dirt and oil streaks running down the middle and hear its engine over our own. The 172 pilot made no attempt to go around, and it touched down, on centerline, maybe four plane-lengths in front of us; which means in all likelihood, he was already in the flare (albeit a bit high) when we pulled out in front of him.
My CFI just sat there staring down the runway – continuing to jabber about something: I don’t recall about what, but I do remember the voice on the radio sounding really agitated as the 172 rolled down the runway. We could not see the entire runway length, because of a “hump” in the middle, so we sat there until the 172’s tail disappeared over the horizon, waited another minute or so, then the CFI released the brakes and shoved the throttle forward…I would have gotten out if I could have reached the door.
I don’t remember much about my “fully narrated”, 15-minute, local area loop. I just wanted to get back on the ground and out of this one-door plane. We managed to make it back to the airport, landed, taxied to parking, and shut down, all without incident.
Following a very thorough post-flight inspection, to “make sure we brought all the big pieces back”, we went inside and stood at the counter. After doing the required “post -flight” paperwork, which included me handing over $15, plus tax, he stuck out his hand and enthusiastically inquired: “So, are you ready to start taking flying lessons?”
To which I responded, “Yes, but not here,” and walked out.
Also watch out for vehicles that may unexpectedly enter your path like I did several decades ago that nearly cost three people’s lives.
The reporting pilot says that the other aircraft was “far enough out”, but not how far that was, or how he knew it was “far enough out”. Was it by looking and seeing it? Or just guessing because of its radio calls? And then, “making my call and taxied on to the runway” says to me that he didn’t wait for any answer before taxiing onto the runway.
Best practice before taxiing out onto the runway is the same as best practice before hitting the starter after hollering “clear prop”. Wait a moment for an answer—it can make all the difference in matters of safety.
Years ago I was getting ready to depart from Durango LaPlata airport in southwest Colorado. I had listened for traffic as I taxied to the runup area, and a Citation crew reported 20 miles out on CTAF as I arrived at the runup area. While there, after doing my runup, I switched frequencies to pick up my clearance. I heard the Citation cancelling his IFR to ATC, now reporting 10 miles out. Like the reporting pilot here, I assumed that the Citation was “far enough out” that I could depart before he got there.
So I taxied to the hold short line, looked for traffic on downwind, base, and final, and didn’t see anything. While taxiing, I switched back to CTAF. So if the Citation reported his position on CTAF, I didn’t hear it while I was still on the Center frequency. I announced that I was departing, waited a few seconds, and then started past the hold short line, when suddenly I heard, “we’re landing, sir!” I jammed on the brakes and stopped with my prop only a couple feet past the hold short line—and I was very thankful that I had waited long enough after announcing I was departing for the Citation pilot to say something before taxiing out in front of him.
Like the reporting pilot in this case, I also filed a NASA report. It was a close enough situation that there was a possibility of a report to the FAA by the Citation crew. Nothing came of it, except for the lesson that I should have asked the Citation crew their position rather than assuming that I had enough time before their arrival. And the other “lesson” was that I was glad of my practice of waiting a few seconds before taxiing out after announcing my intention to do so.
Live and learn…..hopefully.
Warren Webb Jr. makes a great suggestion; if in doubt, be proactive and call the other traffic on the radio. They may have forgotten to announce their position, or it may have not been heard. The FAA forbids the “any traffic at XXXX airport” transmission, and that is a stupid rule. The radio is a tool, and the only way it works is if you use it.
Yes, there may be conflicting transmissions, and there is NORDO traffic, but prohibiting inquiring transmissions takes away part of the tools capability.
Also, the original poster states that they looked for traffic on final, base, and downwind, instead of downwind, base, and final. Does that maybe indicate that they turned the wrong direction for their traffic scan prior to takeoff?? Scanning final should be the last direction you look prior to takeoff.
That’s actually what I did a couple of weeks ago. Another aircraft from our club announced they were in final just as I pulled up to the hold-short line. I explicitly said “5VA ready to depart 30, I’ll be NUMBER 2 BEHIND CLUB TRAFFIC ON FINAL”. I got a nice “thank you Bill” in reply.
many antennas are mounted under the belly. that can be a factor. there are more than a few other possible factors, human and technical.
imho, bottom line is to do your best knowing there are “ limitations “.
and maybe, just maybe, anticipate that some where, some time, some thing will not go the way it’s supposed to. it’s most likely, but perhaps not 100%, going to be opposite some one similar to yourself that was also tying to do their best. and was surprised. or maybe just distracted at that moment.
so it may be useful to figure you’re going to have to cut them some slack.
i think these call back articles here are extremely useful. and fwiw, i figure i’ll be reading mine in a little less than 2 years from now. it happens. be careful and stay cool. i admire the guys who can stay cool.
Probably not. He sounds like a GA cowboy who acts like he can roam the range unobstructed fences as in the olden days of cattle drives west.
Regards/J
Maybe asking the other pilot directly to report his position before entering the runway may have helped.